


fading, but i never

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Disability, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:13:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin woke up that morning to fully realise Kai had cease to exist. And as Kai disappeared (and as Kai disappeared, a long time ago, he reminded himself) he had taken with him everything that Jongin ever wanted and everything Jongin didn't know he even needed. | TW: Disability.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fading, but i never

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for twitter user @chojino who made and sent me the cutest straps. A what-if Kai lost function of his legs and D.O. is still an active singer fic. Planned to have three chapters in total. Rated M for later parts.

Kim Jongin woke up that morning to an all too familiar voice. That beautiful, sweet voice that he had remembered dancing to, years ago when he was called Kai. The voice that made him feel that perhaps Kai was the real one all along and the Kim Jongin in the last few years had been nothing more but a transient, melancholic dream. 

But as he properly woke up, sensation washing over his body – sensation washing over his upper body but not his lower, not the legs he so needed to dance – he realised he woke up as Kim Jongin. Three years retired as EXO's lead dancer after an accident made his legs nothing more but decoration, and ugly ones too.

He woke up realising the voice did not come from his roommate D.O. having an early morning practise, but from the television, successful singer Do Kyungsoo awing the nation on the television.

Jongin woke up that morning to fully realise Kai had cease to exist. And as Kai disappeared (and as Kai disappeared, a long time ago, he reminded himself) he had taken with him everything that Jongin ever wanted and everything Jongin didn't know he even needed.

 

 

Mornings were routine for Jongin. It was not to say that the rest of the day wasn't routine, when you're unemployed and disabled and living with your parents they tend to be, but mornings were especially so and felt especially long. It wasn't easy getting up and getting yourself in your wheelchair when everything below your hip can't even feel anymore, but after weeks of practise, Jongin had learnt to do so without the help of his mother. Nowadays, he was probably an expert at it, as much as an expert you could be with such a thing anyway, so his mother no longer watched over him with worry all the time.

Now he could go to the bathroom by himself, could get changed by himself, could bathe by himself, he could even feed his dogs by himself and take them out for walks. His doctor said it was something he should be proud of.

Instead, he was frustrated, because no matter how good he got at being a disabled, everything still felt painfully slow and everything felt like a reminder that he could no longer do what he wanted to. In the bath every morning, just like every other part of his ritual, Jongin would trace his legs with his fingers, hoping that they would feel something, even the slightest bit of pressure, but so far, nothing. 

 

 

Sehun would always call him at 12:30, just as he was eating his lunch, and that was always the end of his long especially-routine mornings because conversations with Sehun had always been less than so. Sehun wasn't in entertainment anymore, unless one counts being an Instagram star as one, but he was still entertaining, sarcastic and that little bit annoying Jongin was never sure whether he stands or actually likes. 

He was thinking it could be the latter, considering Sehun, and once in a while Joonmyun or Zitao who Sehun had, once in a while, drag along with him to their weekend meetings, were the only people from Exo he still kept in contact with at all. Part of it was eventual, without Exo holding them together, they had little to talk about.

Part of it was intentional, Jongin knew, Jongin consciously did, especially with him. 

“Kyungsoo-hyung wants to call you,” And like the early morning television was just a warning, Sehun told him, soon into their conversation. 

This wasn't the first time Sehun told him this. The first time Sehun did, Jongin hung up on him. The next day that Sehun called, he sounded annoyed but didn't bring it up, having chosen to instead to snark at Jongin more than usual. 

This time, Jongin didn't hang up.

This time, Jongin stayed quiet.

“I can hear you breathing you know,” Sehun said, and Jongin could almost see him rolling his eyes.

After a few more seconds of silence, Jongin spoke before Sehun could say anything else.

“Why?” 

Jongin asked.

“What do you mean why? It's pretty straight forward,” Sehun replied, without the kind of hesitation Jongin had. “You were friends with Kyungsoo-hyung.”

A small silence.

“He misses you Jongin, I think.”

Jongin didn't expect that. He wanted to hear that, that Kyungsoo misses him, _Jongin_ , but he did not expect to hear it, not even hear someone else say it with an 'I think' tacked on at the end of it. 

“Why does Kyungsoo get a hyung and I don't?” Jongin managed to say, eventually, what he could say, silly as it was.

Sehun snorted. “Maybe because you're only a few months older than me, but mostly it's because you don't act like it at all.”

“Thanks,” Jongin replied sarcastically. For going along with it, he thought, sincerely.

“Yeah sure. Anyway I'm giving him your number okay?”

Jongin wasn't sure if it was alright to say okay, or if it was alright to say no, so again, he replied to Sehun with a silence. Again, he could see Sehun rolling his eyes across the line.

“I'll take that as an okay,” he said, and hung up before Jongin could say anything back to him.

 

 

When Kai disappeared and became Jongin, Jongin had decided, quietly, that he didn't want to talk to Kyungsoo again. D.O. was more than Kai's friend, D.O. was Kai's partner. Lead singer of EXO-K with the lead dancer of EXO-K and they were perfect that way. It was D.O.'s voice that gave Kai the music to dance to and it was Kai's movements that gave D.O.'s voice that little extra dynamic on videos and on stage.

But Kyungsoo had grown past D.O. to be Do Kyungsoo and now his voice carried itself and now his voice didn't need Jongin anymore. Jongin would like to think he had grown past Kai too, but he hadn't. He had become smaller than who he was when he was Kai and can no longer even move to the melody of Kyungsoo's voice in the way Kyungsoo's voice deserves to be moved to.

Jongin would tap his fingers and pretend they were his legs for the first few weeks, while listening to their old songs, but he soon stopped because it only reminded him of what he can't and how he was nothing without Kai. He stopped listening to their old songs too because of the same reason. And eventually, Kyungsoo started reminding him of that too so he started ignoring Kyungsoo's texts and Kyungsoo's calls. 

Soon, even Kyungsoo's number on his screen reminded him of that, so he threw his mobile phone across the room, for it to break against the hard wall and got a new number calmly the day after.

 

 

He received a message from Kyungsoo two days after the conversation with Sehun, an awkward “Hi, how are you? Sehun gave me your number.”

A part of Jongin would like to think that despite its briefness, Kyungsoo had spent hours and even the entire day thinking of it. The Kyungsoo he knew back then would, anyway, so Jongin would still like to believe that part of Kyungsoo could never change.

“Good,” he typed, he bit his lower lip wondering if he should had written such a blatant lie, but he went on, “He told me, how are you?”

Kyungsoo's reply came quickly after: “Good.” 

And then, a few more seconds before a second text: “I miss you Jongin.”

How could Jongin even reply to that? If Kyungsoo had said it, aloud with that voice of his Jongin continued to adore, he wouldn't have been able to breathe – in fact, the cold words on his screen had already done a bit of a number on him right there and then.

How could he reply?

An “I miss you too”?

(Not sure if that'd be a lie.)

An “I don't miss you, though”?

(Not sure if that'd be a lie.)

He looked at his blank text messages, and he could've sworn, for a split second, his fingers actually danced as he typed:

“I know.”


End file.
